


Duty of Care

by septemberprudence



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 08:43:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5122007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/septemberprudence/pseuds/septemberprudence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Toto's job to keep Lewis in the right frame of mind, and he'll do whatever is necessary to achieve that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duty of Care

Lewis always had to be drunk before he'd let Toto fuck him.

The guy was brilliant, beyond brilliant, but he was the type of driver who needed _managing_. The most micro of micro managing, and sometimes Toto despaired of the energy he had to expend to keep Lewis in a sufficiently stable state of mind, but then he'd look at the team's trophy cabinet and know it was all worth it. Every late night phone call, every tantrum, every last hour he spent reassuring Lewis that it was okay, he was the greatest, the best ever, a legend, and everyone was behind him one hundred and ten percent.

Mercedes were world champions, and there was no price Toto wouldn't pay to keep that title.

Because integrity had no place in this business, and while Lewis might be all ego and bluff on the surface, underneath he was the neediest, most insecure person Toto had ever met. He was _damaged_ , in some very fundamental way, and occasionally Toto wondered exactly what had happened to the guy that this was how he'd ended up, but mostly he was too busy soothing, cajoling, extinguishing any emotional fires before they had a chance to take hold.

It was exhausting, but it was Toto's job.

When things got bad, he knew to say, "Come on, we'll go for a drink, just you and me."

And Lewis would sometimes protest, but he wouldn't ever refuse. He never _asked_ for it, but Toto had learned to read the signs.

It was always the same. Lewis wouldn't say anything, but he'd start knocking back expensive vodka at a slightly alarming rate and once he'd reached the necessary level of intoxication, his face would soften. He'd smile. He'd start touching Toto's forearm, affectionately pet Toto's thigh as he let his hand linger too long.

"God," he'd finally say, and giggle breathlessly, "you're so _big_ , man."

He'd throw his arm around Toto's shoulders, leaning into him, and say, "You make me feel so small, like I'm a girl or something."

Toto would look at him, and they'd make their way to whatever hotel room he'd booked for the evening.

Lewis was, without fail, more than drunk enough, but he'd still pretend he was further gone than he actually was, rubbing up against the bed as Toto tongued his ass, taking it slow. "Oh, Jesus," Lewis whined. "Oh God, please fuck me, please."

He liked it from behind, with Toto on top of him. He seemed to _need_ it, that feeling of Toto's weight pressing him down into the mattress, writhing and struggling helplessly underneath him. Toto grabbed Lewis' wrists, holding them down over his head as he fucked him, hard as he could, his mind blank and emptied, focused only on making sure he came.

There was a meeting a few days later, and Lewis said, "That was wild the other night. Where did we even end up?" He shook his head, and made a point of saying, as he did every time, "I don't remember anything, man, it must have been full on, yeah?"

"Yeah," Toto said.

"We got some girls, right?" Lewis laughed. "Tell me we got some hot girls."

"Lots of hot girls." 

Lewis grinned back at him. "Fucking _awesome_ , dude, we smashed it."

"We did."

For a while, maybe even until the next race, Lewis would be calm, almost happy, but it never lasted.

Sooner or later, Toto would have to say it. "How about we go for a drink, just the two of us?"

"Okay," Lewis would reply. "Yeah, that sounds good."


End file.
